


Green is More Your Color

by lionessvalenti



Category: Knives Out (2019)
Genre: Crack Treated Seriously, Gen, Mpreg, Post-Canon, Pregnant Ransom Drysdale, references to vomit
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-12-11
Updated: 2019-12-11
Packaged: 2021-02-26 00:08:37
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 544
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21754282
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/lionessvalenti/pseuds/lionessvalenti
Summary: For some reason, Marta is the only person Ransom will see.
Comments: 15
Kudos: 41
Collections: Writing Rainbow Green





	Green is More Your Color

**Author's Note:**

  * For [BiffElderberry](https://archiveofourown.org/users/BiffElderberry/gifts).



When Ransom walked into the room, Marta gasped. It was a legit out loud, honest to god gasp.

For one thing, he looked _terrible_. Easily the worst she'd ever see him. His hair wasn't styled, the orange jumpsuit washed him out, and there were dark circles under his eyes. None of that was as shocking as Ransom's hugely pregnant belly.

"Oh, you noticed," he said, sitting down on the other side of the table from her. He sat at an angle, the space between the hard plastic bench and table that were both bolted to the floor was too small to accommodate him.

"What the hell happened to you? How?" Marta had been skeptical when she heard Ransom wanted to see her when he had refused to see every single one of his family members -- though that seemed a bit more obvious now -- and she hadn't forgotten that he had tried to kill her. He would have succeeded, if not for one last trick from Harlan.

Ransom met her gaze cooly. "I thought you might tell me how."

"You're looking for a medical opinion? I'm hardly qualified on the subject of _male pregnancy_." She choked out the last two words, amazed that she had a context for them to go together.

"No." He leaned in as well as he could, lacing his fingers together as he set his hands down on the table. "Tell me, Marta, How many men have you puked on? How many of them got pregnant?"

"You're crazy," Marta said. "None. Obviously."

None to the second question. Ransom hadn't been the first guy she'd ever puked on. Teenage boys had to learn the hard way not to ask her to tell them how big their dicks were. It was never going to end well.

"There's no other explanation."

"There has to be."

Ransom's handsome face twisted into something else. Something -- desperate. "This thing, it's yours. You got everything else. The money, the house. Have the baby, too."

Marta frowned. "That's what this is about. I don't know how this happened to you, Ransom, but you can't blame me for everything bad that happens to you."

He stared at her, dead still, until a hand darted out and grabbed her around the wrist. A guard shouted at them about not touching, and she tried to pull away, but Ransom had a tight grip around her.

"Let go of me," Marta said, her voice low and steady as to to make a scene. As not to show her fear. The last thing she wanted to do was let him know that he scared her.

"This baby is yours, Marta," he hissed, "and I'm going to prove it."

Two guards pulled him off of her and dragged him toward the door, with little regard for his condition.

Marta sat there for a few seconds, the image of Ransom with his desperate, haunted expression caught brightly in her mind's eye. No matter how ridiculous the notion of man-impregnating-puke was, the pregnancy was real enough, and Ransom believed it. The clarity was gone.

Yet, as Marta left, gathering her things from the security beyond the locked doors, she thought, there _had_ to be an explanation.It was worth looking into. She had some calls to make.


End file.
